Every Soul Has a Song
by Hazel2468
Summary: Death the Kid has always lived under the principles of order, established long ago by the Shinigami. But when an ancient being and blood-enemy of his kind falls to earth, madness spreads like wildfire. Can Kid truly become a God of Death when there's so much he doesn't know? Please R&R!


**Hello readers! It's been a while, and I've been very busy, so I apologize for the lack of updates on my other story. Anyway, being the very busy girl that I am, I figured, hey, instead of doing important, college and work related things, I'm going to write a Soul Eater Fanfiction! So... here we are. This is a KidxOC story that I've had in the mental bank for a while now. A note about my OC- her name is Li****ň****a, which is pronounced ****_Leen-Yah_****. Weird, I know, but I like it. Anyway, please read and please please ****_please_**** review! I need to know what my readers think so that I can continue to grow as a writer. In fact, it is very difficult for me to be motivated to post new chapters unless I know that people are reading my work. So please take the time to review- I would really appreciate it. Thanks again for taking the time to read my work!**

**Hazel**

Every Soul Has a Song

Chapter 1

_(Note: This story goes by the televised series, not by the graphic novel. I apologize for any confusion or inconsistencies in the timeline of events. The addition of another character does tend to skew things a little bit). _

_Liňa_

* * *

The sky was falling, or so it seemed to her. Everything was rushing towards her, the clouds, the stars. The world was spinning in a dizzying kaleidoscope of colors and shapes and sounds as the security of the ground was ripped from beneath her feet. Something inside of her was breaking, splintering like a feeble tree branch caught in a storm, snapping and falling from everything it knew to an unfamiliar place in the mulch. The girl fell to her knees, her hands pressed into her eyes, desperate to rid her head of the high-pitched ringing that accompanied the cleansing, the breaking, the Falling. She hung on, gripping at the last little vestiges of connection that remained within her, not wanting to lose. But with a final, terrible 'crack!' she lost and fell, screaming, her entire body quivering in waves of pain. She could feel the dirt under her skin, gritty and so unlike the ground that she knew. There was no soft grass, no humming clouds in this world. Only cold and desolation, as far as she could tell. Something was coming, something fast and deadly. Every fibre of her body screamed, telling her to run, but the pain was still blinding, white hot like a branding iron. Shaking, she sat up, whimpering as she rolled her shoulders and glanced behind her. What she saw made her heart lurch up into her throat. Her wings. Her wings were... Black. Black and crooked and bent from the fall. The girl trembled, then let out a wail so loud that it reverberated for miles. An angel's anguish. She would have liked to curl up and never move again, to accept her fate and lay there until the earth swallowed her, a dead tree root lying in the sun until the soil claimed it once more. But the large, dangerous soul was still approaching, moving faster than ever, and she knew what would happen if it reached her. Biting back tears, the girl pushed onto her feet, unsteady but able to remain upright. Her knees and ankles cracked and popped as she walked, settling back into place after the Fall. It would be days before she could walk normally again, and perhaps months until she regained her full strength. The danger was close now, much too close, but she could move no faster. Desperation sank in, and she scrambled towards an outcropping of stone. It was all that she could see with her eyes still half-blind, and she could make out a black spot which she assumed was a cave or niche. Somewhere to hide. Anywhere to hide. The stones were sharp, and they cut into her skin as she pulled her damaged wings tightly against her back and wormed into the tiny crevice. Perhaps the soul would pass her by, would be unable to reach her with its dangerous tendrils and power. The girl shut her eyes, reaching above into the sky with her mind, searching desperately for a voice, for any sign that she was not alone, not totally disgraced. But none came. Her mind was silent and empty. She let her head loll back against the rock, numb to the pain when the jagged edge cut into the back of her neck. It didn't matter. Her people had abandoned her, her subjects had turned and accepted the power in place of what was right. The dangerous soul was just yards away, and she could hear his labored breathing. Stitched-together soul, a mess of power and just a hint of madness clinging to the edges. This man was deadly, and she knew that he could feel her nearby.

"Come on out, angel." The stitched-soul man was speaking, his voice cool and collected. "I know that you're in there. Wouldn't it be easier to just give up? Let's not do this the hard way." The girl straightened, baring her teeth. Who did this man think he was? Stitched, mad soul or not, she was _not_ about to give in to a human. For that's what he was- just a human, a man. A growl broke from within her chest and, despite the rocks, she puffed out her wings. She would be damned if he was going to get her out of this place.

"Go away!" she shouted, her voice echoing in her little cave. "Leave me alone!" A moment of silence, and then the man chuckled.

"I'm afraid I can't do that." he replied, drawing closer. "I'll give one last chance- Let's do this the easy way. Come on out and face your death like a good little monster, or I'll have to come in there." This time she hissed, fingertips digging into the rock. She bled, but didn't care. She wouldn't be taken, not like this.

"It's you who is the monster, Dog of Death." she said, snarling and showing her fangs. There was nothing from the man and, had it not been for the overwhelming feeling of his soul, she would have thought him gone. She sighed and looked down. Her legs were badly cut up, and she had a bruise blooming on her right shoulder. There was a crunch and she looked up. The man was standing before her, staring from behind a thin pair of glasses and leering as he took in the sight of her. A scar ran down the middle of his face; what had he done to himself? That explained the stitched-up soul. The girl snarled again, growling at him as he reached into the crack and grabbed her wrist.

"I'm going to enjoy this. Perhaps Shinigami will let me dissect you when all is said and done. Such an interesting animal..." he looked positively mad, and she pulled against his grip. But he was strong, too strong, and it took little effort to extract the exhausted girl from her hiding place.

"Let go!" she spat, twisting around and striking out at him. Her nails grazed his cheek, leaving thin red lines of blood in their wake. He only laughed as she spread her wings.

"You think you'll be able to fly? With wings like that?" he said gleefully, watching as she struggled.

"Yes... I do." The girl said, pressing down hard. Her feet left the ground and she whirled over his head, her hand still in his grasp. But the stitched man was taken off guard, and she planted one foot his his back, wrenching herself loose and tumbling to the ground. Her only option now was escape, to run or fly somewhere he couldn't as she tried to stand again her injured ankle gave and she stumbled. The man slammed into her, and something very hot and very painful jolted through her. His soul. But how... he didn't have a weapon! The world went black, her vision tunneling, and the girl fell forward into the dirt, helpless and struggling to force her useless arms to move.

"I think I'll take this one back to Shinigami." The man said, giving the fallen angel a good kick in the side. She coughed and cried out, curling in on herself. She couldn't move properly- he had done some serious felt him bind her hands and wings with something rough and uncomfortable- frayed rope- that burned her skin when she moved or twisted. He slung her unceremoniously over his shoulder and turned, kicking up dust as he started the long walk back to the city.


End file.
